


Harbor in the Tempest

by Anna_Heyward



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Frottage, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Top Castiel, quoting of canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Heyward/pseuds/Anna_Heyward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Dean bought Turner's Tavern, he's kept his doors open every night - rain, snow, whatever. After all, you never know when someone's gonna stumble in needing shelter, right? Well, tonight, it's a soaking wet, trench-coated stranger. Who also happens to be incredibly hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from awesomewritingprompts.tumblr.com ( #634): Write a story about a guy who walks into a bar on a dark and stormy night. The title comes from "All I Want Is You" by U2.

The words “drowned cat” immediately came to mind.

Or was the saying “drowned rat”?

Either way, Dean decided, the guy was a mess, standing there in the doorway of Turner’s Tavern, his trench coat soaked from the storm. He wasn’t carrying an umbrella either, so it was likely that everything underneath that coat was soaked as well.

Good thing Dean had kept his doors open tonight, even without any customers. The guy looked like he’d had a rough night. Coming here was not his first choice of activity for the evening, that much was clear, but he definitely needed to get out of the rain.

“Hey,” Dean called out from behind the bar. “You okay?”

The man just stood there, pondering Dean’s question with his head cocked and brows furrowed, as if he couldn’t quite decide what the answer was, or whether he wished to share that information with a total stranger once he’d decided.

“May I use your phone?” the guy finally asked, his voice low and gravelly. “My car broke down about a mile back, and my cell phone is dead.”

“Sorry, man. Phone lines are down. Storm took out a tree just east of here, took out all the lines with it.”

“Cell?”

“Sorry,” Dean shrugged. “Don’t own one.”

The man’s shoulders slumped with resignation. “Figures,” he huffed.

“I can get you a towel though,” Dean offered, grabbing a bar towel from the cabinet underneath the countertop. “And some coffee maybe?”

The man nodded. “Very well,” he growled. He took a seat on the stool opposite Dean and peeled off his trench coat. Dean was right; the poor guy was soaked through.

“So, what brings you to this part of the county?” Dean inquired while he started the percolator. Turner’s was on the outskirts of Lawrence, technically in Douglas county. It wasn’t the kind of place people just happened to drive past and want to try; most of the patrons were regulars that had been coming here long before Dean bought the place.

“I was on my way to Kansas City to have dinner with my brother and his wife. I hit a puddle that was a little deeper than it looked, and my car stalled. I forgot to charge my cell before I left, and of course it died just as I was trying to dial his number. I’ve been walking for over thirty minutes. This is the first place I’ve seen with lights on.”

“Yeah, power’s out in this whole area. You know, you’re lucky you made it here in one piece, as bad as it is out there.” Dean shook his head as he poured the guy’s coffee and passed it across the counter, along with a caddy of cream and sugar packets. “You’re welcome to wait out the storm here, though. When it clears up I can give you a ride home. Or, you know, wherever.”

The guy’s head snapped up. “You’d do that? You don’t even know me.”

“Dude, I’m not letting you go back out into a rainstorm that took down a friggin’ tree. Just make yourself at home for a bit and try to get warm. We’ll worry about the rest later, okay?”

The guy opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a sudden deafening clap of thunder, followed by what sounded like hail. Dean jogged to the window to take a peek, the guy right behind him. Yep, with the glow of a few lightning flashes they could definitely make out the shapes hitting the ground. Hailstones the size of quarters dotted the parking lot outside.

“Well, that settles it. You’re not going anywhere now. Pull up a chair, and try to comfy for a while.”

The guy nodded in reluctance. “Very well.” He returned to his seat at the bar, alternating between sipping his coffee and wringing water out of various bits of clothing. Finally he shed his suit jacket, and Dean could see the shirt underneath clinging to the guy’s skin and Dean had to admit, the guy was pretty hot. He had a nice build, like he was a runner or a swimmer or something. The kind of body Dean wouldn’t mind getting to know every inch of under different circumstances.

Like the kind of circumstances where the guy wasn’t sitting there soaked to the skin on the verge of pneumonia because he’d walked a mile in the rain after his car broke down. _Jesus_ , Dean wondered, _what is wrong with me?_ The guy was sitting there in soaking wet clothes and shivering to the bone, and Dean was mentally undressing him.

“Hey,” Dean coughed. “You, uh, you want a change of clothes or something? I don’t mean to pry or anything, but you look pretty uncomfortable there.”

The guy looked at him again, his head cocked just like before. “No. That’s not necessary,” he finally declared, shaking his head. “I don’t want to trouble you any more than I already have.”

“Look, man, it’s no trouble,” Dean insisted. “I mean, I live here, so, you know, I have plenty of spare clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Dean darted through the kitchen to his apartment in the rear. It wasn’t much, just a one-room studio with a bed, a TV, and a bathroom, but it was everything Dean needed. He filched through his dresser, locating a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He grabbed a pair of thick socks from his underwear drawer, deciding to draw the line at giving a stranger a pair of his boxers to wear. Even if said stranger was extremely hot, that was probably a little too much.

“Here you go,” he said, setting the clothes down on the bar. “Bathrooms are down the hall and to the right.”

“Thank you,” the man nodded as he stood up and gathered Dean’s clothes in his hands. “This is very generous of you.”

“Like I said, it’s no trouble,” Dean answered, tossing another dry bar towel on top of the guy’s bundle. “And please, call me Dean.”

The guy turned back and nodded. “Castiel.”

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel returned from the bathroom, a pile of wet clothing in his hands. “That feels so much better. You have no idea.”

Dean smiled at seeing Castiel finally smiling. Well, maybe not so much “smiling” as “not frowning.”

“Like I said, no trouble. Can’t have customers getting sick on my watch.”

Castiel eyed his coffee cup as he took a sip; that frown suddenly returned.

“Hey,” Dean spluttered. "I didn’t mean it like that. Coffee’s on the house, obviously.”

“I _do_ have money. I don’t want to put you out.”

“Don’t worry about it. You said you’d been walking over thirty minutes and nowhere else was open, right? Hey, I keep my doors open for a reason on nights like this, and tonight you’re it. Just be aware that sometimes I might put my foot in my mouth.”

Castiel just nodded sheepishly, sipping on his coffee. That smile did tug at the corners of his mouth, though.

“So, Castiel, right? You from around here?”

“More or less. I was born in San Francisco, but my parents moved back here shortly after I was born. You?”

“Yep, born and raised here. I was in the Army, though, so I’ve lived all over.” A bright flash of lightning illuminated the entire bar for a moment, followed by another deafening clap of thunder. “Man, it’s really coming down out there. You’re lucky you made it here when you did. Your guardian angel sure was on duty tonight, as my mom would’ve said.”

Castiel smiled over the rim of his coffee cup. “I was named after an angel, actually.”

“Yeah? Hey, I guess that makes sense.” Dean grabbed the carafe and poured himself a cup of coffee as well. “You know, my mom used to tell me when I was little that angels were watching over me.”

“And tonight you’re paying it forward, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Dean wondered what his mom would’ve said to that.

“You’re very close to her, I can tell.”

“Actually, she died right before I graduated high school.” Twelve years ago, and it still hurt. Dean shook it off; he was not going to get all depressed when he had someone here that needed his help. “Hey, didn’t you say you were on your way to dinner earlier?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“So you haven’t had dinner yet, right? Tell you what, why don’t I whip us up something to eat? On the house, I promise. Just make yourself comfortable; I’ll be back a few minutes.”

“At least let me assist you.” Castiel started to stand up. “Please.”

“Nah, man. It’ll only take a few minutes. Plus you don’t know where everything is.” Dean punctuated that last sentence with a wink, internally wincing the moment he did it. “Um, yeah. I’ll be right back. Burgers okay?”

“That sounds very good. Thank you.”

Dean just nodded and retreated to the kitchen. Jeez, the guy was so formal with his pleases and thank yous, and Dean was just making an idiot of himself all over the place. First he’d ogled the guy in his wet clothes, then he’d almost gotten teary over losing his mom, and now he was winking at the guy. He really needed to get himself together and quit acting like a damn teenager. Over a total stranger that he was probably never gonna see again as soon as the storm passed.

Dean busied himself with gathering condiments and burger toppings while the patties cooked, trying to anticipate what Castiel might like, since he hadn’t actually ordered like a real customer. There was a quarter of a lemon icebox pie left in the freezer, so Dean sliced that up and plated it, adding it to the tray of ingredients he had going. The pie wouldn’t be good for much longer anyway; it’d probably just sit there and get freezer burn.

The burgers done and plated, Dean placed them on the tray and returned to the front. “So, table or booth?” he asked Castiel, earning a smile in return.

“I’ve always been a booth man myself,” Castiel responded, standing up.

“Booth it is.” Dean unloaded the plates onto the nearest booth table and gestured for Castiel to sit. “I didn’t know how you took your burger, so I got a little of everything here. And some pie for dessert.”

“Dean, this is extremely generous of you.” Castiel shook his head in disbelief, eyeing the spread in from of him. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”

“You can thank me by coming back as a paying customer one day. And bring a friend.”

“You got it.” Castiel added ketchup and mustard to his buns, and topped them with pretty much every vegetable Dean had brought out. Finally he bit into his burger, moaning around the first bite. “Oh my god, this is the best thing I have ever eaten.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Nah, you’re just saying that because you had a shitty evening and you’re starving.”

“True, but shitty evening aside, these make me very happy.”

Dean tried to tamp down the warmth that spread through his body at Castiel’s compliment. He made Castiel happy. That shouldn’t affect him the way it did, considering he’d only known the guy for half an hour. He had to get this, whatever it was, under control. “Yeah, well, glad I could help.”

They ate mostly in silence, with the exception of Castiel moaning like a sex god every time he took a bite of his burger. Jesus, Dean had never known eating a cheeseburger to be so damned erotic, but he felt himself getting unbelievably turned on.

_Stop it, Winchester. You don’t even know this guy. He’s a stranger. He’s an imbecile who doesn’t know how to charge a cell phone before he leaves the house in a rainstorm._

Castiel took another bite, a bit of ketchup dotting the edge of his mouth. He darted his tongue out to lick it clean, and holy shit, the guy had a long tongue. And the way this throat worked as he swallowed was now the single most erotic things Dean had ever seen in his life.

_Get it together. It’s not happening. You’re not going to let it happen, are you?_

Finally Castiel polished off the last bite of burger, licking his fingers clean. It just wasn’t fair. He had no fucking clue how unbelievably hot he was, or just what he was doing to Dean.

He grabbed a napkin to wipe off his fingers and slid the plate of pie in front of him. “Dean, if you don’t mind me asking, why’d you keep this place open on a night like tonight? I assume you’re running on a generator, since you mentioned the power lines were all down. But you didn’t even have any customers.”

“You saying I should’ve kicked you out and called it a night?” Dean smirked.

“No.” Castiel huffed out a laugh. “Whatever your reasons, I’m grateful. Even if you don’t have a useable phone. I’m just curious.”

Dean swallowed his last bite and grabbed a napkin to wipe off the last traces of grease from his lips. Conversation like this, he could handle. Maybe it would take his mind off his raging erection for a few minutes as well. “I used to be in the Army. Few years back I was stationed at Ft. Wainwright in Fairbanks, Alaska. Everybody there, they keep their doors unlocked. Everyone, year round. That way, if anyone ever gets stranded in a snowstorm or whatever, they can find the nearest building and get shelter, whether somebody’s home or not. When I came here and bought this place, I decided I was gonna do the same thing. Somebody needs shelter, a place to wait out the rain or snow or whatever, my door’s always open. Well, you know, during business hours, anyway.”

He had no idea why he was telling Castiel all this. He could’ve just dismissed the question with a shrug and a “hey, I had nothing else to do” or some bullshit like that. The thing was, this Castiel just seemed really easy to talk to, in addition to being hot as fuck. And he also seemed genuinely interested in what Dean had to say, which was rare.

He did _not_ ask for Dean’s life story, though. Maybe Dean should just keep his mouth shut from now on.

“How long were you in the Army?” Castiel asked.

 _Still not asking for your life story_ , Dean told himself. _He’s just making friendly chit-chat._

“Twelve years,” Dean replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “Enlisted right out of high school, not long after my mom died.”

“So what made you leave the Army? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Dean took a deep breath. It wasn’t a very interesting story, but most people never wanted to know this much. Still didn’t mean anything, though. Castiel was just being friendly. “Got discharged last year after my squad got hit by an IED. We got lucky, nobody was killed. But my left arm broke in a coupl’a places, and my shoulder was shattered. Took my severance and the hazard pay I’d been saving up and bought this place.”

“Family?”

Okay, this was turning into 20 questions. Not that Dean was complaining; he could’ve had way worse people walk in on a night like tonight. Way less hot and way less fun to talk to. “Well, you already know about my mom. Dad died of heart trouble about five years back. Got a younger brother, Sam, that lives in California with his wife. He’s a lawyer. So fucking proud of him.”

“You should be,” Castiel responded with a smile, licking the remnants of his last bite of pie from his fork as Dean tried resolutely to ignore that tongue. “So why did you move here? Why not California? Or anywhere else, for that matter?”

Dean took a deep breath; he didn’t really want to get into what happened with Benny, but at the same time he didn’t think Castiel would think any less of him for it. It made no sense, but he trusted the guy. “I had sort of a long-distance thing going with an old friend from high school. Thought it might turn into something more when I got back.” Dean kept his response decidedly gender-neutral, just in case. “I was wrong. By the time I figured that out, though, I’d already bought this place. Now it’s kinda grown on me.”

“Well, it seems to suit you.”

“Thanks,” Dean responded, not quite sure what Castiel meant. It seemed like a compliment, though, so he’d take it. “I’m gonna get these cleared away. You want a beer?”

“Now you’re talking,” Castiel smiled. “You sure you don’t want to start me a tab?”

“I’ll let you know later when I see how much you’ve drank,” Dean smirked back.

“At least let me help with the dishes. Surely that doesn’t take any special knowledge of the kitchen layout.” Castiel eyed Dean with a glint in his eye as he started to gather his own dishes together. Damn, he was cute.

“Alright,” Dean conceded. “Since you might be making yourself at home for the next coupl’a hours, I might as well show you around.”

"Dean still didn’t quite know what to make of the guy, this stranger who’d wandered in and turned Dean’s entire night upside down, but at least he seemed fun to hang out with, even if it wasn’t ever going to lead anywhere. Maybe this storm blowing in would turn out to be not such a bad thing after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Of all the places Castiel could have walked into on a night such as this, he was glad it was this one.

When he had departed from his car, he’d hoped like hell he’d picked a busy enough street to find something open. Anything, he didn’t care, as long as they had a phone. About fifteen minutes in it was pretty clear he’d picked the wrong street, but by then it would’ve taken him twice as long to turn back and start down a different path, so he’d kept on. He had no idea what to expect when he’d spotted the unassuming building as he trudged down the rain-soaked streets. In the end, he really didn’t care what was inside; the neon “open” sign in and of itself was like an oasis in the desert.

Or perhaps a dry oasis in the middle of an ocean would have been more accurate.

Regardless, the empty bar with the hot-as-hell owner was probably the last place Castiel would have expected to spend his evening. Or any evening, to be honest; this wasn’t exactly the kind of place he would’ve patronized otherwise. But Dean had turned out to be so entirely charming, with his welcoming demeanor and his quiet insistence that Castiel stay and have coffee. And then Dean had gone and made dinner and put in front of Castiel one of the best cheeseburgers he’d ever eaten in his life.

It was more than that, though, this inexplicable thing that drew him to Dean. It was the way Dean had let Castiel into what was basically his home without hesitation, the way he’d smiled softly when he’d mentioned his mom, the way his eyes clouded over for a moment when he’d mentioned moving back to Lawrence. And yes, it was also the way his t-shirt clung to him in all the right places, revealing a set of muscles that Castiel would love to explore by hand or tongue or both, and the way his jeans framed a pair of legs which, Castiel would venture, looked every bit as good naked as they did sheathed in soft denim.

Perhaps getting stranded in the middle of the highway during the worst storm of the year thus far wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

He accepted the beer from Dean and followed him into the kitchen. “So how’d you come to own this place, anyway?” Castiel couldn’t help it; suddenly he wanted to know everything there was to know about the man who’d welcomed him without question. Hell, Dean had even offered up his own clothing to a complete stranger. What kind of person did that?

“Um, it was for sale?” Dean laughed. He had a great laugh, one that showed off his smile and made his green eyes dance. Castiel had a feeling that many a girl, and probably quite a few guys as well, had spent way too much money at the bar after being flashed that smile. “No, seriously. I was crashing with an old friend of my dad’s after I came back here, and he heard that one of his old Marine buddies was selling this place and moving back home to be near his grandkids. The place is perfect, got a group of regulars who keep the bills paid, and there’s just enough space in the back for me to live.”

“And you’d never run a bar before this?” Castiel watched as Dean began piling their dishes in the sink.

“Nope. But Rufus, that’s the old owner, he stayed on until I got the hang of things. And Bobby, my dad’s friend, he helps out too. He used to help out Rufus here and there, so he knows how things work.”

Castiel was amazed at the man’s drive and determination. “I don’t think I would ever have the courage to do what you did. Just buy a place and start a new life like that, with no experience whatsoever.”

“Nah, man. It wasn’t that big a deal.” And now Dean was blushing, highlighting his freckled cheeks even further. The man was unbearably attractive; it just wasn’t fair.

Dean shook off the compliment and opened one of the upper cabinets. He removed a towel, tossing it at Castiel. “Here, make yourself useful.”

Castiel took the hint and backed off his line of questioning. Maybe drying dishes would get his mind out of his pants.

Instead, Dean turned things around on him. “So what about you? What’s your story?”

“Not much to tell, I’m afraid,” he shrugged, drying the plates as Dean handed them over. “I work as a CPA, which is pretty uneventful until tax season, when it becomes twenty-four hours a day of sheer torture. My brother Gabriel lives in Kansas City with his wife, their two kids, and a dog. Our parents recently retired and moved to Florida. All very boring and typical WASP. Nothing as exciting as being in the Army or living in Alaska.”

“Hey, the Army can be boring too.” Dean passed Castiel a handful of silverware. “There were days where it was nothing but paperwork. For, like, hours at a time. Honest to God.”

Castiel smiled in spite of himself. Damn this adorable dork. “That’s heartbreaking, Dean. I’m so sorry you had to endure that.”

“Yeah, well, we all have our own personal hell that we have to endure at some point in our lives. That was mine.”

“Your reward will be great in heaven, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed, pulling the drain plug. He grabbed the towel from Castiel’s hands and dried his own hands off. “So, we got a TV out front. You wanna see if we can find a channel without storm coverage?”

Castiel would much rather spend the evening getting to know Dean better, like maybe trying to find out whether he swung Castiel’s way or not. He knew it was completely illogical to have such an attraction to some bar owner he’d only known for an hour or so, but it seemed as though logic flew out the window the minute Castiel donned Dean’s sweats. And watching TV could perhaps segue into more conversation, give them something neutral to talk about to take the pressure off.

“Sure. That sounds good.” He followed Dean back to the front of the bar and made himself comfortable at the booth where they’d eaten dinner, stretching his legs along the seat as he leaned against the wall.

Dean grabbed the remote from behind the bar and turned the TV to face the booth. “You want a refill on that beer while I’m up?”

“No, thank you. This’ll keep me going for a while,” he replied, gesturing at the still-half-full pint glass. He didn’t want run the risk of drinking too much and passing out; staying sober and spending more time with Dean was much better.

“Suit yourself,” Dean shrugged, topping his glass off before crawling into the seat opposite Castiel, mimicking Castiel’s position. “So, let’s see what we can find.”

Dean had been right; it was mostly storm coverage, on every channel. PBS was showing Masterpiece Classic, which Castiel would have thoroughly enjoyed on his own but Dean quickly vetoed with a grunt. A few channels later, and Dean suddenly got very excited. “Hey, _Stripes_! Cas, you ever seen this?”

Castiel had no idea when he had become “Cas,” but he decided he liked it nonetheless. Dean had given him a nickname; the knowledge made him every bit as warm as the Army sweatshirt that Dean had loaned him. “Yes, Dean, I have. Because I didn’t grow up under a rock.”

“Sorry,” Dean smirked. “You just seem more like the Foreign Documentary type to me. Come to think of it, you should probably pick anyway. You’re the one who’s stranded here 'til this storm passes.” He set the remote down on the table and slid it across.

“Dean, I was only joking. I’d love to watch this. I haven’t seen it in years, actually,” he replied, picking up the remote to turn the volume up. And strange as this whole situation was, he found himself actually getting lost in the story, enjoying the more juvenile brand of humor, reveling in the way Dean laughed with his whole body when Captain Stillman played with his little Army men.

“Would you believe it if I said this was the movie that made me want to join the Army?” Dean asked, casting a sly sideways glance at Castiel.

“Are you shitting me?” Castiel spluttered, very nearly spraying beer through his nose.

Dean eyed Cas for another second, then burst out laughing. “Hell, no! Oh my God, the look on your face!”

“You’re an asshole.” Cas turned back to the screen, shuddering a few minutes later as Captain Stillman used his telescope to watch the female officers showering. Of course, no 80s movie would be complete without some utterly unnecessary female nudity. “Ugh. For me, this is the movie that made me finally realize I was gay.”

The words left his mouth before he’d grasped what he’d said. Holy shit, he hoped that Dean was the kind of person to be okay with that. It was the 2010s, sure, but still one never really knew how people would react to that. And Castiel was only about 10% certain that the looks he’d been getting from Dean were of the romantic variety, which left a good 90% chance that he was completely mistaken. He’d never been all that good at reading people to begin with.

Dean was silent a long moment, looking down at his lap; Castiel’s heart beat frantically within his chest as he wondered if he’d just screwed himself over and was about to get kicked back out into the rain.

“For me,” Dean said quietly, “it was Raiders of the Lost Ark. First time I ever saw that movie, by the end I had the biggest hard-on I’d ever had in my life. I’d stayed up late with my little brother to watch it on cable, and I had to pretend to fall asleep on the floor curled up in a ball so he wouldn’t notice. The thing kept me awake half the night.”

“You mean you didn’t…” Castiel trailed off, making a vague jerking-off gesture.

“Eventually, yeah.” Dean’s face visibly reddened. Castiel didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing that happen. “Probably the hardest I’d ever come in my life.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen. My first girlfriend had just broken up with me a month before. Rhonda Hurley. Told me I was a terrible kisser. Wasn’t until I saw Harrison Ford with that leather and that whip that I realized it wasn’t me, it was her. Or rather, it was her entire gender.” Dean sniffed out a small laugh, his face softening into a smile. Castiel wondered what was on his mind at that exact moment that made the corners of Dean’s mouth quirk up like that. “What about you?” Dean added, glancing over at Castiel.

“I’d suspected since junior high, but I didn’t know anyone else who was, so I thought maybe there was just something wrong with me. I thought maybe if I just found the right girl then I’d be okay. I tried, it just didn’t work.”

“What was her name?” Dean murmured.

“Daphne Allen. We were seniors. She was pretty, smart, talented, you know, lead in the spring musical every year. My parents loved her, and she thought I was the perfect gentleman because I never pressured her to sleep with me.”

“Then, let me guess. You watched _Stripes_ one night, and that was it.”

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, more or less. But it wasn’t until a few months later at Anna Milton’s graduation party, when someone decided to turn it into a junior high party and start up a game of Spin the Bottle. I ended up having to kiss Ezekiel Thompson. _That’s_ when I knew for sure.”

“So what happened with Daphne?”

Castiel scratched the back of his neck, wincing at the memory. “She found me and Zeke making out in the closet a few hours later. That was the end of that.”

“Oh, man. That sucks.”

“Yeah, it did for a while. But I guess it was for the best, you know? Sometimes I think I might’ve ended up marrying her if it wasn’t for that one random spin of the bottle that night.”

They both turned back to the movie, the air between them now heavy with the weight of their memories. Castiel tried to think of something to say, anything to break the tension. “So, tell me about your brother. He’s a lawyer, you said?”

Dean’s face brightened visibly. “Yeah. Graduated from Stanford. He does environmental law.”

“And his wife?”

“Jess. She’s a nurse, works in neonatal ICU. They live in San Mateo.”

“You get to see them often?”

Dean sighed. “Not as often as I’d like. Sammy came up to Fairbanks before I left for Iraq. We spent most of the week drinking and fishing. That was one hell of a week.” He smiled and shook his head. “And he and Jess flew up last year when I got back. They were there at the base when I got off the plane.”

“I’ll bet that was a nice surprise.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was. He’s a good kid, you know? He actually cried, too. I don’t think he’s cried like that since mom and dad’s funerals.”

“He’s very proud of you, I’m sure. You’ve done so much.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, not me. Sammy’s the one saving the planet and all. Me, I was just doing my job.”

Dean spoke so humbly of his time in the Service, but Castiel knew in that moment, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Dean had saved someone’s life. He had probably lost a few people close to him during his time overseas, but he had definitely saved a few as well.

And maybe what Dean had done for Castiel that night was small in comparison, but Castiel was wholly grateful and completely humbled to be counted among those whose lives had been touched by Dean.

Castiel also knew in that moment that he wanted this man in his life. Whatever happened for the rest of the night, or any night thereafter, Castiel would not be able to walk out of this bar and never see Dean again. Their paths had inexplicably crossed, but were now inextricably entwined.

“Hey, Dean? Something just occurred to me.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“What’s your last name?”

Dean smiled. “Winchester. You?”

“Novak.” Castiel pondered the other man’s name, rolling it around on his tongue. “Dean Winchester. It’s a pleasure to have met you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, you big sap. Now shut up and watch the movie. This here is high-quality entertainment I arranged for your viewing pleasure.”

Castiel turned back to the screen and grabbed his glass, downing the last of his beer. He and Dean watched in companionable silence, Castiel sneaking a glance at the other man every now and then. Suddenly Dean burst out laughing as the two men on screen walked into a bar that featured a female mud wrestling ring. “Oh, Jesus. I forgot how over the top this movie is with that shit. Maybe this was a bad idea, huh?”

“It’s okay,” Castiel chuckled. “I’ll try to keep my disgusted grunts to a minimum.”

“You know what, though? We probably should check the weather real quick.” Dean reached for the remote and switched back to the local channels. “It sounds quieter out there. The storm might be letting up. Maybe we’ll get lucky and I can take you home.”

Castiel was surprised at the way his heart began to quicken at hearing those words. Sure, Dean had mention within 5 minutes of Castiel’s arriving that he’d give Castiel a ride, but it hadn’t really sunk in until that moment that Dean was actually serious. Castiel should’ve known that this man here next to him was the kind of person to offer up the use of his vehicle along with coffee, a hot meal, and his own clothing.

He just really hadn’t expected that he’d have to say goodbye to Dean so soon.

“Shit. Looks like you’ll be hanging here for a little while longer." Dean turned up the volume so Castiel could hear.

_"The National Weather Service has issued a Tornado Warning in effect until 1:00 a.m. for the following counties in Kansas: Atchison, Anderson, Coffey, Douglas…”_

“I’m sorry, Cas. I can’t let you leave while there’s a tornado warning going on.”

Castiel knew as well as he assumed Dean did that tornadoes rarely hit Lawrence, and if one actually did hit they would probably be able to see it coming a mile away. In fact, if it were the middle of the day, they’d probably be pulling their chairs out to the patio to watch it coming. As it was, though, he was relieved to have an excuse to stay a little longer and get to know Dean better.

“So, what now?” he inquired.

Dean let out a sigh. “I guess I should close up shop. Get these windows covered, you know, just in case.”

Castiel hopped out of his seat. “How can I help?”


	3. Chapter 3

After Dean turned off the neon “open” sign and locked up the front doors, he showed Cas how to bar the windows. The shutters Rufus had installed were inside instead of outside, and wouldn’t do much to protect the windows in case of a tornado, but they were solidly built and would definitely protect the interior from shattering glass. Cas barely had to be shown how to do one before he set to work on the rest while Dean got to work on packing up all the liquor bottles behind the bar.

He’d only had to do this a handful of times over the past year and he always hated it, because it was tedious as fuck and most likely completely unnecessary. But Rufus had been adamant that it would be easier to replace a few hundred dollars’ worth of glass shelving and mirrors than a few thousand dollars’ worth of liquor if, God forbid, something ever blew through this part of town.

Cas finished barring the windows pretty damn fast and came to help Dean with the remainder of the liquor. Dean once again silently thanked whatever deity was upstairs listening that if someone had to walk in and get stranded with him during a tornado, that it was this man right here.

Dean was also pretty damn thankful that the tornado warning had come, giving Dean an excuse to keep the guy around a little longer. He just wished he’d picked a tighter pair of sweatpants for Cas to wear as he watched Cas bend over to pack each bottle away. After catching a sneak peek of the sleek muscles of Cas’ torso through that wet shirt, Dean was pretty sure that the rear view would be twice as nice.

If only he could see it.

“Careful, Cas. You keep it up and I might have to put you on the payroll,” he joked.

Cas smiled. “Actually, I was thinking I might have to come back and wash dishes for a few months to repay your generosity.”

“Nah, that’s not necessary.” Dean waved dismissively as he started on the top shelf stuff. “One month, tops.”

Cas full-on laughed at that. His laugh was so intoxicating, so distracting in the way his eyes shone and his nose crinkled the slightest little bit across the bridge, that Dean almost dropped the $150 bottle of Glenlivet in his hands.

“Your kindness knows no bounds, Dean.”

“I’m a stand-up guy, what can I say?”

“Yes, you sure are.” Cas flashed Dean another smile as he stood up and grabbed another bottle. “I’m surprised nobody has snatched you up yet. You know, you being such a stand-up guy and all.”

Dean paused, wondering if that comment meant what he thought it meant. Was Cas coming on to him?

Surely not. There was no way. Because Dean would never be so lucky as to land a guy like Cas. He’d only met the guy a couple of hours ago, but he still had a pretty good idea of the type of person Cas was. Tonight’s mishap with the stalled car and the uncharged cell phone aside, Cas seemed like a good guy. Like, a _good_ guy, one who wore suits and worked in an office, and probably had a mortgage on a real house where he spent his nights listening to Mozart and drinking tea while he read classic literature. He probably spent his weekends volunteering in an animal shelter or a soup kitchen or something, for fuck’s sake.

Cas didn’t need to be with some mess of a guy with a bad shoulder and three pins in his arm who lived in the back room of a bar.

He wracked his brain trying to come up with something neutral to dismiss Cas’ comment about his relationship status, but Cas beat him to the punch and changed the subject. “Hey, um,” Cas began, stopping for a moment and cleared his throat. “It looks like we’re about done here. Do you want me to start stacking the chairs on top of the tables? I’ll bet this floor needs to be mopped after all the rain and mud I probably tracked in here.”

“Nah, that’s not necessary. I mean, I’ll probably have to stay closed tomorrow anyway, since the power lines are down. I can do it then. Don’t worry about it.”

“Dean, that’s silly. If we’re stuck in here until 1 a.m., the least we can do is get some work done, right?”

“Cas, I can’t let you do that.” Dean closed and locked the last liquor cabinet, pulling on the handle one last time to assure himself that the contents were secure. “You know I was just kidding about putting you on the payroll, right? You don’t have to spend the night working for me.”

“I know that.” Cas reached over and put his hand on Dean’s arm, pulling it away just as quickly. Dean missed the touch immediately. “I just feel bad for putting you out due to my own stupidity.”

“I told you, you’re not putting me out. Like I said, there’s a reason I keep my doors open. There’s also a reason why Rufus made that back room into a storm shelter. Now I’m gonna make sure everything in the kitchen is secure, and then we’re gonna hole up in the shelter until it’s safe for us to leave. Capiche?”

“Yeah, I capiche,” Cas nodded.

Dean through the kitchen, checking all the equipment and making sure nothing was left out that either may cause damage or get damaged itself in case the roof suddenly blew off. Everything was mostly secure since he hadn’t had much business that day anyway. Satisfied, he returned to the front of the bar. “Alright, Cas, you ready?”

“You do realize this is probably completely unnecessary, right?”

Yeah, so maybe it _was_ overkill to keep them both back there until the tornado warning expired, especially with no secondary indications that anything was coming their way. They’d probably be just as safe hanging out in the front watching TV until 1 a.m., and if Dean were alone here, that’s exactly what he’d be doing. But there was no way he’d be taking any chances with someone else’s life.  “I sure do,” he nodded. “I promise I’ll try not to make it too boring for you.”

“I have a feeling that life with you would never be boring,” Cas replied, his penetrating gaze not leaving Dean’s as he spoke.

Dean merely coughed and waved for Cas to follow him because, really, what could he say to that? He led Cas through the kitchen to his room in the back, securing the door behind them.

Now that he looked around the room, this was pretty embarrassing, having to bring Cas back here. Just a bed, a TV on top of the dresser, and a few books stacked in the corner. “I know it’s not much, but it’ll keep us from getting killed on the off chance that a tornado does blow through here.”

“I like it. It’s perfect.” Cas seemed like he really meant it, too.

“So, um. Have a seat, make yourself at home.” Dean gestured toward the bed, which was shoved against the far corner of the room. Cas climbed on the bed and scooted back until he was sitting against the rear wall. “You wanna watch some TV? Or, let’s see, I don’t have any board games or anything like that. Got a deck of cards around here somewhere, though. Poker?”

“Now you’re talking. Prepare to have your ass handed to you, Winchester.”

“Hey, I was in the Army, remember? I could kick your ass ten different ways at poker and you’d never even know what hit you.”

“I’ll take that challenge,” Cas smirked. “Although I don’t have much cash to put down.”

“That’s okay. Winner gets the honor of not experiencing the burning shame of having lost to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get the cards and put your money where your mouth is. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

Dean kicked off his shoes, pulled the cards out of his dresser’s junk drawer, and grabbed the TV remote. He climbed onto the bed and sat against the wall caddy-corner from Cas. “I’m gonna put the TV on low, just so we can watch the storm coverage. You know, just in case they call this whole thing off and I can take you home early.”

“Hey, it’s too bad you can’t fix my car for me too,” Cas smirked as Dean began shuffling.

“Well, I _could_ take a look at it,” Dean hedged.

Cas burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I was kidding! Are you serious? Now you’re telling me you’re a mechanic in your spare time, too?”

Dean shrugged as he began dealing the cards. “My dad taught me about cars when I was growing up, and I mostly worked as a mechanic for the Army.”

Cas shook his head. “I can’t believe you. Is there no end to the things you can do?”

“It’s no big deal.” Dean steadfastly ignored the way his cheeks were heating up with Cas’ compliment. “Your car’s probably just stalled. I bet it just needs to dry out, maybe get a jumpstart. You probably could do that without me.”

“Well, if it’s all the same, I think I’d prefer to have a professional present.” Cas turned toward Dean, his eyes pleading. “Would you mind taking a look at it when this is all over? I mean, even if it starts, there may be internal damage that I can’t see.”

Dean smiled; there was no way he could say no to those eyes. He knew it was highly unlikely that there was damage to the engine, but he’d be glad to have an excuse to see Cas again when this was all over, even for something as small as checking under Cas’ hood. His _car’s_ hood. Whatever. “If it’ll make you sleep easier, Cas, I’ll be glad to take a look.”

“I appreciate that.” Cas turned back toward the cards in his hand and shuffled them around, pondering his next move.

A comfortable silence enveloped the game, one hand after another. Dean wasn’t even sure who was winning after a while, but it didn’t really matter. The only thing that mattered anymore was the way Cas’ left leg casually crossed over his right leg, and the way they were so close to touching Dean’s right knee that everything in time and space seemed to narrow down to that one single point of almost-contact. Dean wanted so badly to close the gap and just touch Cas, even if it was something as small as his knee brushing against Cas’ thigh.

This was crazy, Dean reminded himself again. It was crazy, and it didn’t make sense, and he was such an idiot for even entertaining the prospect. Even if he didn’t even really know Cas, he knew enough to know that Cas deserved better than to be with some guy who had moved into the back room of a dive bar when a few promises of love and a future blew up in his face.

So he’d just sit there and play his damn cards and drive Cas back home tomorrow. Oh, except he’d just agreed to fix Cas’ car, too. So instead of saying goodbye to Cas in the morning he was going to go back for more, keep reminding himself that there was this wonderfully beautiful person out there that he could never have. Because apparently he was a masochist who had to keep pouring salt in open wounds.

His life was a mess. _He_ was a mess, and there was no way that someone like Cas would ever want to be with him.

It didn’t stop him from drinking in every detail of the man next to him, though, like the way Cas’ hair curled ever so slightly behind his ears, tapering softly toward the nape of his neck. Or the way his stubble cast shadows beneath the bolt of his jaw, or the way the muscles in his forearms flexed whenever his hands rearrange his cards, or the way his blue eyes danced every time he drew a good hand.

“So, any other secret abilities you haven’t told me about yet?” Cas continued with a wink, interrupting Dean’s reverie. “Can you juggle, too? Tap dance? Crochet?”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Nah, that’s pretty much it. Although I can cook everything on our menu. And I know maybe four dozen cocktail recipes off the top of my head. You?”

“In my spare time I read, mostly. I can also cook a few specialty dishes that I always make for holidays.” Cas kept his eyes trained on his cards, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face. “I told you, my life is very boring.”

“Come on, there’s gotta be one thing you can do.”

Cas gave a sly smile. “Is this where we share a joint and I reveal that I can play ‘Heart and Soul’ with my toes or apply lipstick with my bra?”

Okay, _that_ was a whole lot of revelations wrapped up into one tiny little question, and Dean wasn’t quite sure which one to address first. He decided to ignore the image of Cas being limber enough to play piano with his toes, because he couldn’t let his cock entertain _that_ train of thought right now. He also decided to ignore the fact that Cas might’ve just revealed that he was a lipstick-wearing cross-dresser – a fact which Cas maybe should’ve already mentioned a moment ago when they first started talking about hobbies, but whatever – so Dean just focused on the first part of that sentence. “Hey man, um, I don’t have any pot, so...”

“No, it’s from _The Breakfast Club_.” Cas chuckled, shaking his head. “I wasn’t asking you for pot.”

“Oh,” Dean replied, slightly relieved. “I’ve never seen it.”

“You really have never seen _The Breakfast Club_? How is that possible?” Cas’ eyes boggled. It would be totally adorable if Dean weren’t still trying his best _not_ to picture how limber Cas might be.

“No. I guess I never got around to it. A movie about pot-smoking drag queens doesn’t really sound like something I would watch.” He shuffled his cards around in his hand, trying to make sense of them. “So you’re telling me you don’t know how to play ‘Heart and Soul’?”

“Not with my feet, no. I’m sure I could plink out a few notes with my fingers, though, if you had a piano in here.”

“You play piano?”

Cas wobbled his head in sort of yes-no-maybe gesture. “I took lessons when I was younger, but I didn’t keep up with it. My teacher moved to Denver when I was 11, and I didn’t feel like continuing with someone else. I wish now that my parents had insisted.”

“Yeah, I get that. Hindsight, right?”

“Right.” Cas turned back toward his cards, but began giggling uncontrollably after a moment.

“What’s so funny over there?” Dean asked.

“Pot-smoking drag queens? What exactly did you think _The Breakfast Club_ was about?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen it,” Dean shrugged defensively. “Besides, you’re the one who brought up putting on lipstick with your bra. And thanks a lot for _that_ mental picture.”

“I was just being facetious. I can’t actually do that.” Cas flashed Dean a smirk. “And, hey, you do realize that it’s a girl who does that in the movie, right?”

Yeah, he realized that _now_.

“So what are some of your other favorite movies?” Dean was hoping to steer the conversation away from the topic of his own stupidity, but he winced as soon as the words left his mouth. That sounded way too much like a first-date question.

“Let’s see. _The Shawshank Redemption_ is always a favorite. _Dead Poets Society_ is a good one. _The Godfather_ , of course, but I liked the book much better. _It’s a Wonderful Life_ …”

Dean shook his head. “Never seen that one either.”

Cas’s eyes widened as he threw his cards down in his lap. “Are you kidding me? How can you have never seen _It’s a Wonderful Life_?”

“Never really appealed to me, I guess.”

“So what do you usually watch at Christmas, then?”

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugged. “ _Die Hard_? _Lethal Weapon_? Or, hey, _Bad Santa_. That was pretty funny.”

Cas shook his head. “Too bad you don’t have streaming in here. I’d make you watch it right now.”

“You would?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “In the middle of a tornado, you’d make me watch _It’s a Wonderful Life_?”

“It’s a wonderful movie, Dean. Very uplifting.” Cas very pointedly looked down at his cards, avoiding Dean’s gaze. When he spoke again it was very quiet, somber. “It’s the story of a man who has sacrificed everything for the sake of others, who is made to realize what a huge impact he has on those around him.”

And just like that, with the crushing weight of those words, Dean knew.

This wasn’t just some random encounter with a stranger. Okay, so maybe it had started out that way, but it wasn’t that way anymore.

This meant something. Maybe it was a small thing, and maybe it didn’t make a hill of beans difference anywhere else in the world whether Dean Winchester met Castiel Novak, but Dean realized right then and there that his life had just taken a turn. He had been fighting it all night, ever since a soaking wet man in a trench coat had walked into Turner’s.

He didn’t want to walk away. He didn’t want to take Cas back to his car in the morning, give him a jumpstart and never see him again.

He wanted to wake up in the morning, every morning, with this man in his arms. He wanted to spend his nights flirting across the bar, Cas sweeping the floors while Dean closed down the register. He wanted to bring Cas coffee and burgers give him backrubs during tax season because Cas would be working himself to death and probably forget to eat. He wanted to introduce Cas to Sammy and watch them laugh over a beer while Sam told embarrassing stories about Dean as a child.

He wanted Sunday morning breakfast and lazy afternoon sex and late nights curled up in each other’s arms watching some old movie that Dean never would’ve picked out himself.

Dean wanted this man in his life.

And more than that, he thought Cas might want that, too.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel was smitten.

He didn’t know what it was, exactly. Maybe it wasn’t one single thing; maybe it was a bunch of little things that, when added together, meant that he just wanted to be with Dean.

He had been trying to explain it to himself all night, but Dean defied explanation.

Dean was a very striking man, sure; it was hard to ignore. The perfect, hair, the piercing green eyes, his face sprinkled generously with freckles, juxtaposing a youthful innocence with the strong masculinity of his stubbled jaw and muscled form. He was, quite, simply put, a beautiful man. But that wasn’t why Cas was drawn to him.

He was decent and honest. Giving, Selfless. Funny. Self-deprecating. He seemed, at least on the surface, to be typical male, with his bar-owner slash former-Army slash mechanic-on-the-side pedigree, but Cas knew there was more to Dean than that. He was a gentle soul, his eyes betraying a pain-filled past that he wanted desperately to either rise above or atone for or both. Dean possessed this unhesitating generosity, not only taking in a complete stranger but also taking said stranger’s life into his own hands. It was the kind of thing that only existed in fairy tales.

Castiel had never in his life felt so drawn to someone so quickly or so forcefully, this magnetic pull to another human being. It left him wondering, as terrifying as it was to voice the words in his own head – was this what it was like when you met your soulmate? Gabe had said that he knew within minutes of meeting Kali that she was The One. So was that what this feeling was, this drive to know someone in every detail? Castiel wanted to know everything about this enigma of a man, from which grade school teacher Dean had the biggest crush on to who broke his heart last year when he moved back here, leaving him in such a state that he felt in his very marrow that he was unworthy of being loved.

Of course, Dean hadn’t said those words out loud, but somehow Castiel suspected that it was true.

He suspected also that Dean was the type of person who didn’t let anyone in, not easily. But Castiel’s comments about _It’s a Wonderful Life_ had apparently shaken something loose, and Dean was slowly but surely opening up. The conversation began to flow easily, covering everything from favorite books and movies to favorite musicians and concerts. Cas was delighted to learn that he and Dean both shared a deep-seated dislike for birthday cake, romance movies, and top 40 radio.

Because if there was one thing Castiel drew the line at, it was being with someone who liked Lady Gaga.

Not that Dean seemed remotely the type, because he didn’t, but it was a relief to learn nonetheless.

And while that in and of itself wasn’t _that_ profound, it was enough that Cas now found himself completely content to be lying on his back on Dean’s bed, only inches from the man who was slowly but surely weaving his way into every empty nook and cranny of Castiel’s being, the card game long since forgotten, while he and Dean rattled off every item on their respective bucket lists.

“This is gonna sound totally stupid, because I absolutely hate flying, but I’ve always wanted to jump out of a plane,” Dean declared.

“You didn’t in the Army?”

“Nope. Wasn’t a Paratrooper. There really aren’t that many Airborne brigades anymore. I’ve flown plenty of times, and I fucking hate it, but still. Something about jumping out. Seems badass, you know?”

“You know, I actually love flying.”

“Now you’re just talking crazy.”

“No, really. I love it; I always have. It’s exhilarating, watching the ground fall away beneath you, feeling the power of the wind carrying you through the air miles above the earth. I love it. But every single time I fly I find myself looking out the window, and I ask myself, ‘Could I open the door and jump out _right now_?’ And every single time the answer is, ‘ _Hell fucking no_.’”

Dean laughed. Castiel was slowly becoming more enamored of that laugh. “I know, right?” Dean shook his head. “It makes no logical sense to want to do that! But I still want to. Probably some psychological bullshit about overcoming your fears or something.”

“But isn’t that what a bucket list is, though? All the things you’re too afraid to do in your everyday life?”

“So what are you afraid of, Cas?” Dean nudged Cas’ arm with his elbow. Cas felt his entire body light up with that one single touch.

And if ever there was a loaded question, a prime opening for Castiel to lean over and say something completely suave and smooth, like, “I’m afraid of how strongly I’m drawn to you,” whispering the words a hair’s breadth away from Dean’s lips just before capturing those lips in his own, that was it.

In the end, Castiel totally chickened out. “You know what I’d like to do?” he asked instead.

“Visit Europe. Someday. No agenda, no tour groups, no fancy hotels. Just get on a plane and go, and see where I end up.”

“That sounds pretty awesome, actually. And totally unlike you to not plan anything.”

“Well, ignoring the fact that you just met me, you’re exactly right. It scares the hell out of me, the thought of going somewhere and not having every last detail planned out in advance. Like, what if I run out of money?”

“Yeah, Europe can be expensive. I got lucky, though. Saw a lot of it in the Army.”

“You went to Europe with the Army?”

“Yeah. My first post was in Germany. My buddies and I would buy train passes and travel whenever we got a weekend off. I’ve been all over Germany, Amsterdam, Brussels, Paris…”

“You’ve been to Paris?” Castiel blurted. He tried to reconcile the image of the man next to him strolling through the City of Lights, a place Castiel himself had wanted to visit since he was probably fourteen years old, and he just couldn’t picture it.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. It was alright. I liked Prague way better, though.”

“Okay, I officially hate you.”

Dean laughed. “Hey, the Army wasn’t all like that. Believe me, the last two years I spent in Iraq more than made up for the first two years in Germany.”

“So, they lure you in with the cushy assignments before they hit you with the hard stuff, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“So what was the first thing you did when you got out?”

“Honestly? Just drove. I was still stationed in Fairbanks when I got discharged, so Sammy flew up again to meet me, we packed up all my stuff in my car and just drove. East through Alaska, then south through Canada, the Pacific Northwest, then back down to California to Sammy’s place in San Mateo. It was a blast, you know? Just us and the road, like you said. No agenda, no nothing.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It was. It was exactly what I needed after those last two years.”

“And you didn’t you stay in California with your brother?”

“I almost did. I’d been there about three weeks, maybe, started looking for jobs and everything, then, I don’t know.” Dean let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Let’s just say I was an idiot.”

“The guy from high school you mentioned earlier, I assume?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Benny. We had an on-off thing pretty much since sophomore year. I thought it’d be over once I joined the Army, but we stayed in touch. Everywhere I was stationed, he’d come visit. Even last year when I was in Iraq, he flew over for my one week of leave I got. We met in Greece, spent the week in Corfu. It was the closest to damn near perfect I ever thought I’d get. He’d tell me how much he loved me and missed me, wished he could take me home with him and all that shit.

“Then I got out. Got to California. I was completely, 100% ready to start a new life there with Sammy and Jess. Then one day, I find this picture of Benny and me in Corfu, and I just couldn’t let it go, you know? Packed up my shit the next day and drove to Kansas. Stayed with an old friend of my dad’s for a while, decided to buy this place. Took me weeks to get up the courage to finally go see Benny and tell him I moved here for good, that we could finally be together.” Dean shook his head. “I should’a stayed in California.”

“What happened?” Cas asked softly, even though he could pretty much guess the answer.

“Fucker got married 7 years ago.”

“Holy shit!” Castiel exclaimed. Nope, that was definitely not what he had expected.

“Yeah. Went by his house one night and his wife answered the door. They were just about to sit down to dinner. She even invited me in, once she realized who I was. And that bastard just stood there, with his arm around his wife, telling her what a good old _friend_ I was, how glad he was to see his old _buddy_ doing so well, all this bullshit about the good times we had. Yeah, I’m sure he failed to mention to his wife just how often those ‘good times’ included my dick in his ass.” Dean shook his head, some this heartbreaking mixture of anger and dejection flashing across his face. “Anyway, I got the hell outta there and I haven’t talked to him since.”

“Dean, I’m so…”

“Save it. It’s my own damn fault, for being such a fucking idiot.”

“Dean, stop it.” Castiel hated this, hated what this man did to Dean. Not just the lying and the going behind his wife’s back; that was bad, sure. But more than that, Benny had given Dean hope. Hope for happiness and a future that was never going to happen. Castiel wanted desperately to give Dean his hope back. Maybe it wasn’t Castiel’s to give, but he wanted it nonetheless. “Tell me something, that night aside, do you regret being with him? Do you ever look back at any of the times you two shared and wish that you had spent that time alone instead of with him?”

Dean didn’t respond.

“Call me crazy, but I’ve always believed that life is better with love in it that without it. Even if that love ends badly, you’re still richer for having experienced it.”

Dean shot Castiel a skeptical glance. “Did you seriously just tell me that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”

Castiel sniffed out a small laugh. “I guess I did. I didn’t intend for it to sound quite so cliché, however.”

“It’s okay. I get what you’re trying to say.”

“And, hey, look at it this way. If you’d never moved back here, I’d probably still be stuck out in the rain looking for a phone.”

Dean full-on laughed at that. Castiel loved that laugh, wanted to crawl up inside it and live there. “You got me there.”

“For what it’s worth, Dean, I’m glad we met.”

“Yeah. Me too, Cas.” Dean stretched out, clasping his hands behind his head. “So what else is on your bucket list? It can’t just be visiting Europe. That’s boring.”

“Europe is boring? You must not’ve seen the good parts.”

“Nah, there’s just so many other places to see in the U.S. that you don’t have to fly to. Like Niagara Falls.”

Castiel sighed. “I want to walk the Tibetan Bridge in Claviere, Italy. They don’t have that in the U.S.”

“Or what about the glacier caves in Alaska? Those look badass.”

“I want to ride a gondola in Venice.”

“Lake Tahoe?”

“I want to kiss the Blarney Stone in Ireland.”

“Did you know there’s a hot spring in Yosemite that looks like all the colors of the rainbow?”

“Hike the Swiss Alps.”

“Or Hamilton Pool in Texas. That used to be an underground river that collapsed. That’s pretty cool, right?”

“And I want to stay at the Burj Khalifa.”

“Wait, where’s that?”

“Dubai. It’s the tallest hotel in the world.”

“That the one from _Mission: Impossible 4_?”

Castiel chuckled. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Dubai isn’t in Europe, though.”

“Spoilsport.”

“What about the Grand Canyon? Come on, don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to see the Grand Canyon.”

“Yeah, I would like to see that,” Castiel sighed.

Dean turned to Cas, his face serious. “So, let me ask you, Cas. What’s been stopping you from seeing all these places?”

“What’s been stopping you from seeing yours, huh?”

“I was in the Army for 12 years. And I _have_ seen quite a few places. So why haven’t you?”

“I don’t know, I guess,” Castiel paused, taking a deep breath. “I guess I’ve been waiting for the right person to experience it all with.”

“And you’ve never had that? Not ever?”

“Not really, no. Aside from Daphne, I’ve never really met anyone I wanted to spend my life with. I’ve dated here and there, but nothing long-term.”

“So you’ve never been in love?”

Castiel had no idea what to say. The short answer would’ve been no, he’s never been in love. The long answer was that no, he’s never been before, but he’s well on his way at the moment. But that logical part of his brain kept trying to tell him that it was too soon to be using words like “love” and “soulmate” with regards to Dean.

At the same time, though, he was just so drawn to Dean, so completely, illogically, crazily drawn to this man. It was a magnetic pull, like gravity. Only in their case it wasn’t one large object drawing in another with its massive, inescapable force. No, they were two, equally weighted objects drawing closer together, each orbiting the other in tandem. Dean and Cas were yin and yang, each complementing the other, lending strength where weakness loomed, showing vulnerability where there was support beneath, and matching completely in sync everywhere in between.

“Cas? You okay?”

“Yeah.” Cas mentally shook it off. “I just wish we hadn’t packed away all that liquor now. I could use a drink, after all this soul-revealing conversation.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m feeling kinda laid bare here.”

“I don’t regret telling you anything, though,” Castiel murmured.

“Yeah. Me neither,” Dean murmured in return.

And whether there was some mystical force called destiny or fate or whatever that was pushing these two people together, or whether they’d met entirely by chance, Castiel knew that he couldn’t just lie there any longer and pretend that nothing was happening here.

He wanted to be with Dean. So help him, he wanted to be with Dean, and it scared him shitless, the thought of admitting such a need to another person. The thought of _needing_ another person. But somehow this complete stranger had waltzed into Castiel’s life and fit so perfectly into all the empty spaces that Castiel had never even realized were there.

He had to tell Dean. As much as it scared him, he had to say something. Because if this night had taught him anything, if their conversations the past hour had taught him anything, it was that life was meant to be lived, and that the things which scared us the most were the ones that needed to be grabbed by the balls and _experienced_ , not avoided or put off for some phantom rainy day in the future.

“Dean, can I tell you something?”

“Is there about to be more soul revealing?” Dean shot Cas another sideways glance and smirked.

“No, please don’t. Don’t look at me, or I may never get the courage to say this.” Cas covered his face with his hands, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Dean, you scare me. Not in the I’m-afraid-you-might-stab-me-in-my-sleep kind of way. You scare me because you’re the most interesting, compelling, most vibrant, passionate, just plain wonderful man I’ve ever met, and it scares the shit out of me that I might walk out of here in a few hours when this stupid tornado warning is over and never see you again. You scare me because you’ve made me feel more in just a few hours than I think I’ve ever felt in my entire life. You scare me because I’ve never been in love, ever, and I have no idea if that’s what I’m feeling right now, and it scares me that I have _absolutely no fucking idea_ what I’m feeling, but I know that I don’t want to walk out of here tonight and never feel it again.”

Castiel felt the bed shift beside him, felt Dean’s weight leaving the mattress. He hazarded a glance out of the corner of his eye and saw Dean standing at his dresser, hands braced on either corner, his head hanging down, his shoulders heaving with deep, heavy breaths.

“You scare me, Dean,” Castiel whispered. “But I want to be scared. So help me, I want it.”


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel’s words hung heavy in the air.

His words were beautiful in their raw honesty, and Dean was pretty sure he’d be replaying them on an endless loop. He wanted to curl up and live in this moment for as long as possible.

Castiel wanted to be with him. The beautiful, fascinating man who’d turned his life upside down in the best way possible actually wanted to be with him.

But bringing up the whole Benny mess had stirred up a lot of shit in Dean’s brain, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to think anymore. Benny had said he’d wanted to be with Dean too, and look how that ended up.

Everything was a jumbled, confused mess. It was a lot to process all at once.

Dean had no fucking clue what to say. He wished he could say “good night” to Cas and spend some time trying to figure out what to do, but hell, that could take days. Weeks. And he’d still probably be no closer to a good answer.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? There probably was no good answer.

He and Cas could get together and that could be it. The two of them, happy as fucking clams, for the rest of their lives. Or they could crash and burn, find out that they really have nothing in common and that this whole night was some alcohol-fueled illusion, and Dean could go back to being a miserable bastard like he was before.

Dean hadn’t had _that_ much to drink, though, so “alcohol-fueled illusion” was probably not the case.

So what should he do, then? It was no big secret or anything that he hadn’t wanted to date since Benny. That was just too fucking painful to go through ever again.

But did he really want to spend the rest of his life running from something, something that was right here in front of him, something that felt so real it almost hurt? Dean had never run from pain when he was in the Army. So why did it feel infinitely worse now when it was his heart on the line?

He wanted to run toward it, toward Cas; he really did. He’d been thinking about it all night, in fact. And now Cas was standing there, waiting for an answer, and Dean still had no fucking clue what to do.

Scratch that. Dean knew what he _wanted_ to do. He just didn’t know if he had the courage to do it.

“Cas, look…”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t. I don’t expect some grand declaration or anything. I just, I wanted you to know.”

Cas’ voice had a trace of something that sounded pretty close to heartbreak, and Dean wished he could erase it, wished he could be this perfect, suave person that always knew exactly what to do and say. But he wasn’t. He was Dean Winchester, fuck-up extraordinaire.

And that was the crux, right there. Dean didn’t want to fuck this up.

So what was that Cas had said earlier?

_Do you ever look back at any of the times you two shared and wish that you had spent that time alone instead of with him?_

All the innocent stolen kisses back in high school; the weekend alone at Benny’s parents’ house before Dean left for the Army; the letters, emails, and phone calls over the last decade; the week they’d spent road-tripping across Germany; camping in Alaska; that last week in Corfu – would Dean have traded all of that away if he’d known how it would’ve ended?

Would he trade away being with Cas if the same thing were to happen?

Would he trade late nights closing down the bar with Cas holed up in one corner working; weeknights on Cas’ sofa with Chinese takeout and movies on cable; road trips to Niagara Falls and the Grand Canyon stopping at every little roadside market because Cas would probably insist they sample all the local flavor; kissing lazily in the Impala while they watched the sunset from a lookout point that Cas would hear about from some random guy at the gas station, because he’d be just that guy, the one who’d smile at and charm every person they’d meet, and somehow find all the best spots along the way despite the fact that Dean’s the one who’s driven across this entire country before?

He had no idea how to say it out loud, and it scared the living shit out of him to think about, but somehow he knew the answer.

Dean turned around to find Cas standing there, just inches away, and all at once the last vestiges of worry and concern just vanished as Cas’ sapphire eyes blotted out everything else. Dean brought a tentative hand up to Cas’ face, tracing his thumb across Cas’ cheekbone, and Cas just melted into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, lips parting in a sigh. Dean brought his other hand up, cradling Cas’ face as he brought their lips together.

It was soft, almost chaste, just a barely-there brushing of lips against lips, and it was heaven. Dean threaded his fingers through the soft hairs at the base of Cas’ neck and tilted his head for better access, leaning in once more. He felt Cas let out a shaky breath against his mouth as they brought their lips together again, Cas’ hands slowly winding their way around Dean’s waist and coming to rest underneath his t-shirt on the firm cords of muscle just above his waistband. Cas’ touch was timid and unsure, almost ticklish in its hesitancy.

Dean shivered as he parted his lips, tongue just barely darting out to trace along Cas’ lower lip. Cas whimpered at the sensation and parted his lips further to let Dean in. He tasted of beer and lemon pie, and when he kissed Dean back with heated fervor, Dean’s knees went weak. Cas tightened his grip on Dean’s back and pulled Dean closer as he teased Dean with his tongue, bringing their bodies into one long delicious line of contact as things became more heated.

Dean had no idea how long they stood like that, kissing feverishly and grasping at every inch of skin they could get their hands on, and he didn’t care. If all they did was stand there and kiss, it would be enough, because it was perfect. Cas’ kisses were the things wet dreams were made of, the kind Dean would wake up from a sweaty, sticky, quivering mess wondering what the hell just happened.

Finally Dean pulled away with a gasp, resting his forehead against Cas’ as he caught his breath. “Cas,” he panted. The name felt so natural on his tongue, like it was the answer to everything that had been missing from his life. “Holy shit.”

“Dean,” Cas moaned, sounding just as wrecked as Dean felt. His eyes locked with Dean’s, his gaze penetrating, searching. Dean had no idea what Cas was looking for, but when he found it his eyes softened momentarily before flitting back down towards Dean’s lips. His breathing deepened and he pulled Dean in tighter as he crashed their mouths together once more.

Cas began walking them backward toward Dean’s bed, and holy shit, Dean could feel that Cas had an erection. It had been a long time since Dean had felt that telltale hardness against his hip, and his heart sped up at the implication. Cas was hard because he wanted Dean. Because after a night of soul-baring conversation pulled them inexplicably closer, just a few brief moments of kissing was enough to tip things over the edge. Cas just wanted Dean. And Dean wanted him back.

They landed in an awkward heap on the bed, causing Cas to groan and Dean to laugh as they adjusted themselves. Cas scooted back on the bed until his head hit Dean’s pillow, and Dean crawled over him, stalking slowly up Cas’ body, eyes gleaming and feral as he drew closer. He let his eyes roam over Cas’ body, still cloaked in Dean’s Army sweats, the hard outline of his hard cock showing through the fabric. Dean wanted it. He wanted all of it, all of Cas.

At last, just a hair’s breadth away from Cas’ mouth, he leaned in, tracing the outline of Cas’ mouth with his tongue. Cas’ own tongue slowly snaked out and gingerly touched Dean’s, and how such an innocent touch could turn Dean on so much was a mystery, but God, he wanted more. Cas brought his hands up and threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair, pulling Dean ever so slowly closer to himself, and Dean met Cas in what began as a kiss and soon devolved into the hottest fucking thing Dean had ever experienced in his life.

Dean dropped to his forearms, his entire body now draped over Cas’, and both men moaned into the kiss as their cocks ground against each other when Dean slowly began to move. He broke the kiss, nibbling his way down Cas’ neck until he reached the collar of Cas’ shirt, pulling it aside to mouth at the skin there. Cas whimpered beneath him as Dean began sucking and licking and tasting whatever he could reach, gently scraping his teeth along the way.

He stopped at the juncture of Cas’ neck to bite into the muscle beneath, and Cas’ soft whimpers turned into full-on moans of pleasure. Cas dropped his hands from where they rested on Dean’s head and grabbed furiously at Dean’s ass as he pulled Dean closer and ground his pelvis upwards. Dean followed, matching Cas thrust for thrust.

Dean found his way back to Cas’ feverishly hot mouth where Cas’ skillful tongue thoroughly fucked Dean’s own mouth in time with their movements. Dean was already so close to coming apart completely, and then Cas went and did that thing with his tongue again, and Dean’s hips stuttered in their rhythm for a moment. He was going to come, holy fucking Christ was he going to come, and he didn’t fucking care. He broke the kiss, just barely hanging on and panting against Cas’ mouth as Cas writhed underneath him.

“Shit, Cas,” he breathed. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Dean, _fuck_ , I’m close. Jesus, fuck, what you do to me,” Cas groaned.

“Maybe we should slow down,” Dean panted. At least enough to get out of their pants. The denim was kinda starting to chafe.

“No!” Cas pleaded. “Don’t stop. Jesus Christ, don’t stop. We can slow down the second time.”

“Okay. _Shit._ Second time,” Dean managed to stammer out as he felt the heat increasing. He shifted his hips to the side, just enough to wedge a hand between himself and Cas to unbutton his jeans. Cas helped him wriggle the fabric down just enough for Dean’s cock to spring free of the zipper, still encased within his boxers but so much more blissful now that the damn zipper wasn’t rubbing against it. Cas then once again grabbed two handfuls of Dean’s ass and pulled their hips flush, cock now grinding against cock through only the thinnest of cotton barriers.

“Holy shit, you feel good,” Dean panted against Cas’ mouth, feeling the heat in his groin increasing. He held on just barely as his thrusts sped up, wanting to see Cas climax first. “Please, Cas. Wanna see you come.”

"Dean. Dean, fuck!" Cas cried out as his orgasm hit, shaking and gripping onto Dean for dear life, fingers digging into Dean’s back. Dean followed a moment later, Cas’ name on his lips, Cas’ hands soothing him through the aftershocks. They both lay there, stunned and breathless at what had just happened.

“Well, shit,” Cas laughed, finally breaking the silence. “That was not how I had envisioned things going when I told you how I felt.”

“Yeah?” Dean smiled, kicking his jeans off as he lay on his side, propping his head up on his elbow. “What was your plan?”

“I was just hoping to ask you out to dinner some time, but then you kissed me, and, fuck, that was hot.” Cas traced a hand along Dean’s abdomen, fingers splaying across the ripples of muscle through Dean’s t-shirt, until he reached the waistband of Dean’s boxers. He traced one finger through the wet spot on the front, then laughed. “We are a mess, aren’t we?”

Dean leaned in and gave Cas a quick peck on the lips as he rolled up. “It’s okay, I got it covered.” He ran to the bathroom and returned with a couple of wet washcloths, tossing one at Cas. His t-shirt came off in one fluid motion and his hands were on the waistband of his boxers when he hesitated.

“Dean, it’s okay. I can turn around, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, that’s not… I mean, isn’t this backwards? Don’t you usually get naked first, then have sex?”

“Usually. But since when do either you or I do things normally?”

“So this doesn’t strike you as awkward that we’ll now both be buck-ass naked when that wasn’t part of our prior activities?”

“No, because tonight’s activities aren’t over yet, are they?” Cas’ voice dropped almost a whole damn octave in a way that would completely have Dean’s dick twitching if it weren’t already completely spent.

Dean decided to ignore Cas’ comment for now, filing those words and that damn sex voice away for later, as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic and removed his boxers. It wasn’t some slow, sensual strip tease, just the basic, clinical, removal of soiled clothing. He did turn his back to Cas, however, as he wiped the cum off himself and tossed the entire bundle into the hamper. Cas was already under the covers, his sweats and washrag sitting on the bed beside him; Dean added them to the hamper as well, and turned back around to face Cas.

Cas took in the sight of Dean, now completely naked and exposed. Dean wanted to turn away from the intensity of that gaze, and moved to cover himself with his hands. “No,” Cas whispered. “Let me look at you.”

Dean gulped as his eyes locked with Cas’; somehow this felt way more intimate than what they had just done. He dropped his hands to his side. “Okay. Let me look at you too.”

Cas peeled back the covers and climbed out of Dean’s bed. Dean let his eyes rove over the figure of the man in front of him, a man he’d never have guessed existed just a mere twenty-four hours ago, yet nonetheless was right here in the flesh. Cas was trim, with the firm quads of a runner. He had the well-defined pecs and arms of a man who did pushups every morning. There was a mole just above his right nipple. Dean wanted to take that nipple into his mouth and tease it until the man begged.

His hipbones jutted out to form a perfect vee, with a dark trail of hair leading down the center toward his perfect cock, nestled within a bush of dark hair that looked so soft, Dean couldn’t wait to run his fingers through it. And the ridged muscles alongside Cas’ ribs – serratus muscles, Dean remembered. He had no idea how he even knew that, but he wanted nothing more than to know how those ripples felt underneath his tongue, whether Cas would shiver if he just lightly ran his fingertips over them.

Cas was a thing of beauty.

Unlike his own body, with its network of shrapnel scars and surgical scars, his fucked-up shoulder which still didn’t quite rotate up a full 180º and probably never would, the freckles which covered just about every inch of skin, his bowed-out legs which may look okay in a loose pair of jeans but looked downright ridiculous naked. He was nothing but one giant collection of flaws.

Cas took a step closer and reached out a tentative hand, tracing one particularly long scar along Dean’s collarbone where a large piece of shrapnel had pierced his skin, just barely missing his subclavian artery. He looked back up at Dean, eyes dancing with wonder. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and pulled Dean in for another kiss.

It wasn’t like before, all heat and passion and _now_. This was softer, slower. Worshipful. Cas’ tongue explored every contour of Dean’s mouth while his hands wrapped around Dean’s back, lightly tracing every curve of muscle, as if he wanted to learn Dean inside and out. This wasn’t a kiss that was leading anywhere. It just _was_.

It was Cas this time who broke away and began kissing his way down Dean’s neck. He sucked a dark bruise just below the hollow at the base of Dean’s throat as he rubbed Dean’s nipple, kneading the sensitive flesh between his fingers as Dean gasped. He mouthed his way across Dean’s chest, stopping to tongue along each scar, reverently kissing the darkest, angriest lines. When he came across one puckered bit of flesh the size of a .22 caliber bullet, Cas stopped altogether.

“Iraq?”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured. “Sniper. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Cas traced the scar with his fingers. “You could’ve died,” he whispered, placing one hand over Dean’s scar and his other hand over Dean’s heart and looked up at Dean, his brow pinched in worry.

“Hey.” Dean cradled Cas’ face in his hands and pulled him up into another kiss. “I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas threw his arms around Dean and kissed him with renewed fever. Whether it was gratitude that Dean was alive and in his arms or fear that Dean could possibly have died and never been in his arms, Dean couldn’t tell, but he did his best to throw every bit of reassurance he could into kissing back.

Slowly Dean became aware that Cas was shaking. “You okay?” he murmured, tracing Cas’ lower lip with his thumb.

“Yeah,” Cas smiled. “Just a little cold, I guess.”

“Shit, I forgot. You spent the night wandering in the rain.” He turned back toward his dresser to pull out another pair of pants or something for Cas to wear. “I can’t let you catch pneumonia on top of everything else.”

“Dean, I’m fine. You’ve just got the AC on a little higher than I’m used to, I think.” Cas pulled on Dean’s wrist and led them back toward the bed. “Besides, I can think of better ways to warm up.”

Dean threaded his fingers through Cas’ and followed.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel wasn’t really cold.

Okay, maybe it was partially true. But the rest of the truth, the majority of the truth, was that seeing that bullet wound scared the shit out of him. To be not-so-casually throwing around words like “forever” and “soulmate” and that L word that he kept having to stop himself from saying out loud, and then see _that_ staring him in the face? It was too much.

Under different circumstances he might’ve seen something like that and fallen on his knees thanking God that the recipient lived to tell the tale a stronger person than before. But seeing it on Dean? It was just some glaring reminder of all the little ways that he and Dean may never have met. Dean could’ve died any number of times serving his country. Cas could’ve stayed with Daphne. Benny could’ve left his wife. Dean could’ve stayed in San Mateo. Cas could’ve canceled dinner with Gabe, or driven a road that wasn’t flooded, or charged his cell phone. Dean could’ve closed the bar early.

There were so many little things that went wrong in their lives along the way that brought them to exactly this moment, in each other’s arms on Dean’s bed.

Castiel wasn’t going to think about those words anymore, the F word and the S word and the L word, because they suddenly ceased to matter. The only thing that mattered now was the way Dean’s breath hitched when Castiel’s teeth grazed his nipple, or the way his cock twitched when Castiel brushed a hand along his hipbone, or the way his hands kneaded into Castiel’s back and pulled their bodies closer. The only thing that mattered was _here_ and _now_ and _Dean_.

Castiel kissed his way back up Dean’s torso, that perfect union of hard and soft flesh that tasted better on his tongue than any other flavor known to man, and captured Dean’s lips again. He found himself moaning into the kiss as Dean’s sinful tongue somehow seemed to find a direct line of communication between his mouth and his cock and exploited it with frightening precision. He was only vaguely aware of Dean’s hands trailing southward along his spine until he felt a finger slip between his cheeks and curve inward, just barely grazing his sensitive hole.

“Jesus,” he gasped panting against Dean’s mouth. “Fuck, Dean.”

“That’s the idea,” Dean smirked. “You _did_ say something about a second time, didn’t you?”

“What did you think I was doing?” Cas slid down and kissed that soft spot just above Dean’s breastbone.

“Stalling?”

“No.” Cas slid down further, mesmerized at the sight of Dean’s thick cock curving upwards against his belly, a bead of precome pooling at the tip. He darted his tongue out to taste, just barely brushing against Dean’s slit. “Savoring.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean breathed. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Hmm. Let’s see, shall we?” Without warning, Cas took Dean all the way into his mouth and sucked him down to the base in one swallow. He set up an agonizingly slow rhythm, just enough to keep Dean balanced on that razor’s edge. Dean’s breaths quickened, his thighs trembled, his hands scrambled for purchase in Cas’ hair, but before he would tip over the edge Cas would pull off, brushing his hands along Dean’s skin, placing delicate kisses on those less sensitive areas until Dean’s breathing returned to normal.

He did it again, and again, and again. Not to torture Dean, no. He would never deny Dean anything as beautiful as falling apart in blissful release. No, this was much more intimate.

It was everything Cas suspected Dean had been denied before. It was complete adoration. It was absolute respect for this man, flaws and all.

It was passion. It was worship. It was love.

He couldn't allow himself to say the word out loud, but he could show Dean how he felt.

Pretty soon Dean’s entire body began to tremble. “Please, Cas. Need you.”

“You have me,” Cas whispered.

“Need you _in_ me,” Dean panted.

Dean was beautiful like this, his skin glistening with sweat, his body quivering at the slightest touch. Cas’ cock twitched, throbbing in anticipation. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please, Cas. I want you to fuck me.”

Cas was humbled, honored, awestruck that Dean would request such a thing, and it made him wonder if Dean felt it too, that word that he himself was trying not to think about. He thought his heart would beat out of his chest as he crawled back up Dean’s body and cradled Dean’s face in his hands, kissing one cheek, then the other. Then with one lingering chaste kiss on Dean’s lips, he murmured, “Anything you want.”

Dean’s breath hitched as he nodded ever so slightly. “Bedside table. Bottom drawer.”

“Keeping the good stuff hidden, are you?” Cas smirked, trying his best but not quite succeeding in lightening the heaviness of the moment. He located a full bottle of lube and an unopened box of condoms underneath some old auto magazines, and immediately felt a twinge in his gut; Dean had probably bought them for use with that other guy but never had the chance, instead getting his heart broken.

The knowledge once again made Cas’ heart beat that much faster, knowing that this man trusted him enough to let him. Not just in the literal, sexual sense, but in all other ways. Dean had let Cas into his bar, his kitchen, his bedroom, his bed, and now, his body. When considered separately, they were just a random collection of variables. But when added together? Castiel wanted to believe that the sum of the equation was that Dean had just let Cas into his life.

Cas leaned down and kissed Dean again with every ounce of passion and fervor that he had in him until they were both breathless, needing.

Dean pulled away first and just looked at Cas, his green eyes searching, questioning. “This is crazy, isn’t it?” he murmured.

“Probably,” Cas whispered in return, holding Dean's unblinking gaze.

“I mean, I don’t do this. I’ve _never_ done this. With someone I just met."

“Neither have I. But It doesn’t feel like we just met, does it?” Castiel couldn’t keep himself from smiling down at Dean. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop himself from smiling if Dean were nearby.

“No, it doesn’t.” Dean smiled back up at Cas. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that.”

“Dean, either way it wouldn’t change how I feel about you.” Cas leaned down and kissed Dean’s eyelids, each one in turn, followed by each cheek. He placed one last, lingering kiss to Dean’s lips, those irresistible, pink, plush lips that actually had freckles on them. He grazed his fingertips down Dean’s torso and along Dean’s achingly hard cock; even bisected by the occasional scar his skin was so soft, like satin. The man was beautiful, just beautiful.

Dean was also every bit as strong as he looked, suddenly grabbing Cas around the waist and rolling the two of them over until be was astride Cas, his legs tucked in on either side of Cas’ hips. “You’re taking too long,” he growled at Cas with that devilish glint in his eye, reaching for the bottle of lube and coating his fingers with it.

Holy shit, Cas couldn’t believe he was about to witness this. Dean placed one hand beside Cas’ chest to anchor himself, then snaked his other hand behind, gasping when his fingertip breached his hole, his mouth frozen into a perfect O.

Something told Cas that this was something that other guy didn’t ever get to see either.

Dean worked himself open slowly, leaning down every so often to fuck Cas’ mouth with his tongue while he fucked himself on one finger, eventually adding a second. He’d give little moans and gasps of surprise whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot, almost as if he’d never expected it to feel so good.

Cas had no idea how long they lay there like that; he could’ve done it all night and foregone his own pleasure if it meant getting to see Dean with that look on his face just a little while longer. By the time Dean had a third finger inside himself he was almost writhing on top of Cas, his cock dragging along Cas’ belly with every undulation of his hips. Cas was hypnotized, helpless to do anything but lay there and watch the mesmerizing play of muscles as Dean moved, the golden expanse of freckled skin, the way Dean’s eyes almost rolled back into his head every time he hit his prostate.

Dean shifted his hips a bit to add a fourth finger, his cock brushing along Cas’ erection as he moved, and Cas suddenly realized with that tiny bit of intimate contact just how close he was already. “Oh, God,” he gasped, his eyes fluttering shut. “ _Dean,_ fuck.” This man was going to kill him, and they'd barely even started.

“Cas,” Dean breathed. “Cas, can I?”

“God, please, yes.”

Dean pulled his fingers out and reached for the condom, rolling it slowly onto Cas’ length. He coated his fingers with a generous amount of lube and slowly stroked Cas’ cock, now impossibly hard and throbbing in Dean’s hands. It was almost too much, but it also wasn’t nearly enough. He was aching for more, and he was completely at Dean’s mercy. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to get himself under control enough to make this last.

“Cas. Cas, baby, open your eyes. I want to see you.”

It took a few more deep breaths before Cas was able to comply. When he opened his eyes Dean was smiling down at him, his face full of admiration and trust and, yes, love. Their eyes remained locked as Dean raised himself up and sank down onto Cas’ cock, inching down ever so slowly.

It felt like they had been headed toward this moment all night. Sometimes they ambled slowly, sometimes they barrelled faster than speeding bullets, but the destination had been the same all along. It was inevitable. Call it fate, destiny, happy accident, coincidence, whatever; the label was irrelevant, because the moment Dean became fully seated on his cock every word in the English language fled Castiel’s brain.

Dean took it slowly. Somehow it didn’t surprise Castiel; in fact, if he’d had to guess exactly how Dean Winchester liked it best, he’d have guessed exactly this. It was lazy, languid, almost leisurely. Considering how close, how desperate they had both been only minutes prior, they now had this unspoken understanding that they both wanted this to last as long as possible. Castiel felt as if he could have lain there all night watching Dean. The way he rolled his hips, the way he skated his fingers along Cas’ skin, the way he smiled softly as if this thing was a secret which only the two of them shared was utterly spellbinding, and Cas dared not miss a single moment by closing his eyes.

Castiel became lost in the sensation of Dean’s hips undulating back and forth. Just how Dean could do that so expertly and not have Cas diving head-first into instant orgasm was a mystery for the ages, yet one that Cas was not in any hurry to unravel. Then just as soon as he began to feel that heat pooling in his lower abdomen, that faint spark that was destined to turn into a smoldering flame, Dean leaned over, draping himself over Castiel until every inch of their bodies was joined. He slowly kissed and licked his way across Castiel’s neck and chest, discovering hidden spots that Castiel never knew existed. Perhaps they never did before; perhaps it was only Dean’s lips and teeth and tongue that could make Castiel gasp and shiver just that way.

Dean suddenly changed his rhythm, lifting his hips up until Castiel felt the head of his cock catch on Dean’s rim, almost popping out completely Then Dean sank back down very deliberately until they were joined again. It was maddening, and delicious, and perfect. Dean leaned down and kissed him, not like he was starved for it so much as he wanted to savor every second, every sensation, every slip of his taste buds against Castiel’s.

Castiel had no idea how long Dean teased him; time became completely irrelevant as Dean’s expert tongue began to re-ignite the fire between them until the simmering flame became a roaring smolder threatening to erupt at any second. Castiel’s own gasps and whimpers became much more vocal; Dean’s undulations gradually became more heated and desperate, punching an unexpected shout from the depths of Castiel’s belly as he suddenly raised up and leaned back, bracing his hands on Castiel’s knees as he fucked his prostate on Castiel’s cock. Whatever dam had been holding back their vocalizations suddenly broke.

“Fuck!” Castiel cried. “Jesus Christ, Dean!”

“Cas,” Dean sobbed. “Shit, I’m not gonna last.”

Castiel had wanted to make this last all night, had wanted to have Dean in every position, in every spot in the room until they were both completely spent. But now, he wanted nothing more than to watch Dean fall apart above him. “Then come for me. Dean, let me see you come.”

“I’m so close, Cas. So close.” He sounded so wrecked, so desperate for something to push him over the edge.

Castiel fumbled around beside him until he located the bottle of lube. He coated both hands with it, warming them together for just a quick second before wrapping them around Dean’s erection. Dean’s eyes boggled as he felt the slick warmth envelop his cock.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, thrusting earnestly into Castiel’s fists as he fucked himself back down on Castiel’s cock. “Holy shit, holy, oh, oh…”

Dean came beautifully with a long, hoarse shout, his body wracked with shudders as he spurted over and over again into Castiel’s hands. His hips slowed down, his breathing calmed, but he didn’t stop moving, at last making eye contact with Castiel.

“Come on, Cas. I know you’re close.” His sensitive body jerked with the aftershocks of his orgasm, but he never stopped.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned, his hands scrambling for purchase as he barreled toward his orgasm at lightning speed. “Please.”

Dean reached down and clasped Castiel’s hands in his own, threading their fingers together, and gave an intimate squeeze. “Let it go, baby. Just let it go.”

The sweetness of Dean’s words, the innocence of the gesture, just the open honesty of everything about the man above him had Castiel coming apart with the most blinding orgasm he’d ever felt. He clutched Dean’s hands for dear life as his body shook, almost passing out from the intensity.

At last the sensations subsided and their bodies stilled. Dean gave Cas’ hand one last squeeze before letting go and lifting himself off Castiel’s spent cock and flopping down on the bed.

Neither one spoke for the longest time; they were just content to lie there in mutual silence, occasionally punctuated by little smiles and kisses. Eventually, however, Castiel could no longer ignore the fact that his hands were still covered in Dean’s cum, or that he was still wearing the condom.

“I suppose we should get cleaned up,” he remarked, “but I just really don’t want to move.”

“I know. I feel like I’ve run a fucking marathon,” Dean sighed.

“I actually have run a marathon. Your assessment is accurate.”

“You’ve run a marathon?”

“Two, actually. But it’s been several years, and I wasn’t able to break the 5 hour mark.”

“Slowpoke.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

“You know I’m kidding, right? A marathon is fucking amazing.”

“ _You’re_ fucking amazing.” Castiel smiled and pulled Dean into another kiss.

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel and reciprocated, pulling away when Castiel’s hands caressed his face. “Dude. What is that?” he asked, touching his cheek where Castiel’s hand had been. “You still have my jizz on your hands!”

“Oops,” Castiel shrugged, stifling a giggle.

“That’s it.” Dean sat up and scooted off the end of the bed, slapping Castiel’s thigh. “Time to hit the showers.”

Castiel dragged himself out of the bed and followed Dean into the bathroom. He slid the condom off, tossed it into the wastebasket and joined Dean in the shower. It was a tight squeeze, fitting both men into the tiny stall, but they managed to make it work, taking turns under the spray while they washed each other.

It was cramped. Castiel hit his knee on the tile wall while changing places with Dean. He wasn’t entirely sure he got all the shampoo out of his hair, he was so distracted by Dean rubbing soap all over his own chest.

It was the best goddamned shower of Castiel’s life.

Dean let him borrow a pair of boxers to wear; Castiel resisted the totally crazy urge to bury his head in them and inhale Dean’s scent before donning them and crawling back beneath the sex-soaked sheets. He glanced at the clock on the wall as Dean burrowed into his side and wrapped an arm around him. It was just after 1 a.m.

“Should we check the tornado warning? See if it’s over?”

“Mm-mm. Go to sleep.”

“Okay.” Castiel let his head hit the pillow, wrapping his arm back around Dean.

This night had been perfect. Well, not so much having his car break down or getting stranded in the rain, but everything else, from the moment he’d walked into Turner’s Tavern had been perfect.

He drifted off to sleep, wondering if the harsh morning light would shine differently on the night’s events.

 

* * *

 

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had been so content.

Not just content, but… dare he say, happy.

It was surreal, meeting a man like Castiel, having this instant connection, talking for hours like they’d known each other for decades, then having this mind-blowing sex, unlike anything he’d ever experienced in the past.

Before Cas, he’d never done some of those things. He’d never fingered himself, either alone or with a partner. He’d never been the one on top before, riding his partner like that, either; he always felt too open, too exposed.

With Cas, though? He didn’t mind so much. Being with Castiel made him brave.

Dean drifted off to sleep wrapped firmly in Castiel’s arms, dreaming of sunshine and warmth, of kisses and smiles, of travelling to faraway places with a blue-eyed companion.

He awoke feeling lighter than he’d felt in years. He couldn’t wait to take Cas out on a proper date; maybe they could go out to breakfast at that mom and pop place down the street. The place was always packed in the morning hours, and Dean had wanted to try it for ages but felt apprehensive about eating solo amongst so many other patrons.

Now he could go with Cas.

He could see whether Cas was a sweet-and-starchy kind of breakfast lover, one who preferred piles of pancakes and waffles drenched in sugary syrup, or whether he was an artery-clogging protein lover like Dean, choosing instead fried eggs alongside slabs of bacon and sausage with buttery toast and hash browns.

Or what if he was like Sam, with his fruit and yogurt and green smoothie concoctions? Well, it wouldn’t be ideal, but they could still make it work.

Dean yawned and stretched out, his arms brushing the cold expanse of empty mattress next to him. “Cas?” he called out.

There was no answer.

Dean sat up, grabbed his jeans off the floor and padded toward the bathroom. It was also empty. That’s when he turned around and saw that his door was open.

Cas was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 will be posted soon. I promise!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was going to wait to post this, but I decided against it.

Dean had known the feeling of heartbreak, that feeling of having your entire being ripped apart and the vacuous emptiness that came to fill the void. He had experienced it just last year, and had vowed never to go through that again, which was why he never did stuff like this. He never let people in, because when he let people in this was the kind of shit that happened.

Dean knew that feeling of heartbreak well, thanks to Benny.

This was worse.

He could still smell Cas in the room, in his bedsheets, and he wanted to rip them out and burn them. In fact, he never wanted to set foot in this room again. It would just be a painful reminder of how he had this perfect thing for one night and lost it.

Instead Dean walked outside, into the bar. Maybe he could find the news on TV and see what the damage was last night, whether the power would be restored any time soon so he could get back to work and forget this whole night ever happened.

He shuffled through the kitchen; everything was still in its place. So, that was a plus, at least. No windows or doors appeared to have been blown off during the night.

It wasn’t until Dean reached the doorway to the bar that he heard it. Had he left the TV on? No, he was almost certain he’d turned it off. Maybe the remote fell off the counter and it turned on by itself?

No, it was a voice. _Cas’_ voice.

“I’m sorry, Gabe. I didn’t mean to worry you… well, I tried to call, but my cell phone died…”

It was Cas. Talking to his brother. They must’ve gotten the phone lines working last night.

Cas sighed audibly as he continued. “Gabe, a car charger doesn’t do much good if the car battery is dead as well.”

Dean laughed softly; he could almost hear the eye roll Cas must’ve been giving as he explained his bad luck to his brother.

“And I would have called, except the only place open around here didn’t have a working phone… Gabe, there was a _storm_ last night. With _hail_. And a _tornado_. Why is it so hard for you to understand that the phone lines were down? I would have called you if it were physically possible… Gabriel Novak, so help me, I am thirty-one years old. Do not talk to me like I am a child! … It was _fine_. I am fine… no, not yet. I’m still at Dean’s.”

Cas’ voice softened at that last little bit, and suddenly Dean felt horribly guilty that he had ever thought this man would walk out on him.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

“Dean gave me shelter last night. He owns the bar where I am … He does have a phone; I told you, the lines were down! Jesus, Gabe, how did you think I called you just now?… He’s not a serial killer, for Christ’s sake… Because I’ve spent the last twelve hours with him, that’s how. We _talked_ … Actually, he’s nice. Sweet. He’s a good man, Gabe. I like him.”

Dean now felt really bad for listening in on Cas’ private conversation; he had been eavesdropping way too long. He turned the corner into the bar and cleared his throat so Cas would know he was there. Cas looked up at him and his smile instantly brightened.

“Yes, I’m definitely seeing him again,” Cas said into the phone as he winked at Dean.

Dean didn’t hear what Gabe said to Cas next, but he could’ve guessed by the way Cas’ eyes boggled and his face became instantly crimson. “I am not telling you that,” he coughed, turning his back toward Dean again.

Cas took a moment to attempt to say goodbye, followed by one more definitive, “I am most definitely not telling you _that!_ ”

There was another pause during which Dean though Cas was just going to hang up already. Instead he cupped his hand around the receiver and whispered, “Okay, fine. _He_ did,” before slamming the phone down.

Dean didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or go back to his room and hide for the rest of the year.

“I am sorry about that.” Cas shook his head as he stood up and walked toward Dean. “I wanted to call him and let him know where I was. I was hoping to be done and back in bed before you woke up.”

“It’s okay.” Dean wound his arms around Cas’ waist and pulled him in for a kiss. “I found you.”

“You sure did,” Cas hummed, nestling his head into the crook of Dean’s neck. “Sorry, that sounded way less like a line from a movie in my head.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind so much. Not with you.” And now Dean was the one reciting cliché movie lines.

“We are a pair, aren’t we?” Cas laughed.

“So, what do you say I take you out on our first official date and we go grab some breakfast? Assuming the power lines are back up, that is.”

“Ugh. I should probably go retrieve my car before I get ticketed or towed, but breakfast sounds so much better. I don’t want this to end just yet.” Cas gave Dean one last peck on the lips. “But you’re wrong; this won’t be our first date. It’ll be our sixth.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?”

“Well, for our first date you took me out for coffee and let me wear your sweats. Our second date you made me dinner. Our third date you took me to a movie, then our fourth date we played poker and talked for hours. And on our fifth date we made love.”

“You’re only counting that as one?”

“Okay, fine,” Cas smirked. “Five and six. So breakfast will be our seventh date, then.”

“Seven dates, huh? I can’t believe it took you that long to agree to go to breakfast with me.”

“I can’t believe you made me wash dishes on our second.”

“Touché.”

 

* * *

 

Several hours later Cas was safely returned home, his car jump-started and purring once again like a kitten, and Dean was back at Turner’s.

He had never known his bar to feel so lonely before.

Especially after mopping up the mud stains that some rain-soaked, trench-coated stranger tracked in, after washing the sex-scented sheets on his bed, re-opening the shutters that had been barred shut last night, and returning the bottles of liquor to their shelves. Cas’ stamp was all over the place now, in every corner.

Dean started readying the place to reopen when his phone rang.

“Turner’s,” he answered.

“Is it too soon to ask you out for our eighth date?”

“Depends.” Dean felt himself beaming from ear to ear; it was hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago he hadn’t even known that voice, and now the simplest of words coming from that voice could make his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking white water rafting in the Grand Canyon. Are you free for two weeks in April?”

“Cas, that’s six months away.”

“So? I’m not going anywhere.”

And there it was. Dean has never known five little words to make him so weak in the knees, make him want to laugh and cry and thank God for every shitty thing that ever happened in his life because somehow they all brought him here, to this moment, with this wonderful man. Somehow those five little words carried more weight in his heart than the other three he’d heard in the past.

“April is good,” he managed to choke out.

“Good, because I just bought two tickets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I have a few longer pieces in the works that I'm scrambling to wrap up before I start posting, so don't forget to subscribe to my author page before you go.


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